The Ghost, The Butcher and Their Hawk
by Lady Naeva
Summary: REVISED A new threat to Tavington's Career has emerged. The Ghost seems to have gained a new man known as the Hawk. But this Hawk is all too familiar to Tavington and that could prove to be dangerous to both sides.
1. Man and Wife

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Characters except the ones I made up. Also if you find something historically inaccurate…well, this is fiction after all.**

**Many of you may notice that this story is familiar, you aren't crazy, It's not a rip-off of the original Ghost, Butcher, Hawk, I have decided to re-write this after several years, I finally couldn't stand how crappy my writing was and how out-of-century this was. There is far too much 21****st**** lingo and plot holes for this to be ok. I'm changing the plot a little, adding some stuff, destroying other stuff and doing some heavy editing. Most of it will be pretty familiar. It will still be the same story you loved (or hated…I don't judge) but It will be different. If you read it the first time around I suggest you re-read it, It will be a lot better I promise.**

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"_When love is not madness, it is not love."_

_Pedro Calderon de la Barca_

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**Chapter One**

"Please Colonel, do you honestly think a straight on assault is how to take Boston?" A Young woman's voice rang out among the chatter and gossip of the warm evening ball, a few pairs of eyes turned on Colonel William Tavington and a Lady Eleanor Heaton. Whispers and gossip floated around them.

"Well we need to show those damn rebels that we mean business." He snapped back at her.

"But When you just sweep through you kill innocent people in the process! Plus you destroy the city. Land and supplies that could be of use are ruined." Tavington shook his head and clicked his tongue. The two proceeded to stare one another down for a few moments

"I hardly think you would understand that the tactics sometimes outweigh the ethics of battle _my_ Lady." Came Tavington's steely reply. Lady Heaton glared at him defiantly, turning her heel and stalking off leaving the irritated standing there triumphant but feeling like a fool for some reason. He sighed and followed after the Lady, ignoring the whispers of scandal from others as she disappeared around the house.

"Oh lord….They're at it again…." General O'Hara commented lazily to Lord Cornwallis as he let his eyes roam Lady Heaton's retreating form. Cornwallis certainly noticed the leering General but was slightly distracted by the two fighting.

"It seems they are…we all know how this will end. I really wish he wouldn't antagonize the Lady, she may not know her place as a woman but she certainly deserves some manner of respect. Well, at least-"

"Tavington is put in his place by Lady Eleanor?" O'Hara said lazily as he looked to his Lord General, mouth raised into a devilish smirk. Cornwallis rolled his eyes.

"As will you be. Don't bother with a woman like her. She's not a pushover like the others." O'Hara watched Lady Eleanor's form, retreating around the house, still arguing with Tavington.

"That's where all the Fun is in the Chase Sir…" He grinned softly.

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As soon as Tavington and his female counterpart rounded the corner of the house, out of sight from the rest guests, she reached up and slapped him. Anger flared in Tavington's mind, temporarily clouding his thoughts as his leather-encased hands balled into fists.

"That was for earlier…" She snapped, her silvery eyes alight with controlled vexation. The Colonel was about to reply when his head was slapped into the other direction, this time he was ready for it. "And that…." She said breathlessly. "Was being gone for so damn long without a letter!" He turned his head, neck popping as he did so, eye twitching with anger then roughly pushed her against the wall, pressing his lips to hers. She complied willingly, returning the kiss with zeal. After several moments his lips left hers and went over her chin to the smooth column of her neck, he kissed it hungrily. She tilted her head back some, taking a deep breath.

"William…" He looked up, his eyes clouded and lusty, he set a finger under her chin.

"Ellie, I do apologize….but It is hard to send a post rider, you know the scandal it would cause, the men are already suspicious, they know your father is in Virginia now, what am I to give them for a reason as to why I am there? "

"I'm so glad your home." She said gently, ignoring what he had said all together, or perhaps not wanting to acknowledge that he was right….for once. He smiled some. "I've missed you so much." She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, burying her face into his chest, taking a deep breath. Gunpowder, horses and cologne invaded her nose, it smelled like him in that she found happiness. He leaned his head down, into her hair, breathing in. Lilac, honeysuckle, hibiscus, her favorite imported perfume but also the faint smell of her peppermint tea blended in subtly. A feminine scent he had missed in the past few months, a welcome change from the smells of camp, men and horses he had endured.

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Captain Wilkins walked through the plantation estate where his superior, Colonel Tavington was supposedly staying for the week while the other dragoons had set up camp several miles down the road with the rest of his royal majesty's army. It belonged to the Lord General Heaton, his daughter, Lady Eleanor Heaton had taken residence in the home ever since her father acquired it during his first campaign. He however moved north in the past few years to aid in the war effort.

It was quite a scandal at first but polite Society had been assured that Lady Heaton's younger brother, Michael was there to keep the Lady safe and her modesty pure. After all, the Lady had still not been wed. She had quite the slew of suitors at first, she was quite beautiful, she came from good blood, her father being a Lord General after all, but alas she turned them away. She was too spirited and head strong, a woman with scandalous ideas. Every so often one would in passing call on her, only to be turned away by her brother.

As the Captain mused over this he started to noticed the manor itself, there was certainly affluence in the owner of the house's family but there was a regal elegance that showed through in the fact that there was no over indulgence in this home like Wilkin's had seen in Cornwallis' homes. He was interrupted by his study of the architecture when he heard the metallic ring of sabers crashing together. The sound resonated through the halls. Wilkins heard voices that sounded they were fighting. He rushed down the hall and turned the corner, bursting through the door to the courtyard.

There he saw his commander lying on his back, in just his shirt, untied and open, boots and breeches arms pinned to his sides by a smaller man who was straddling him, he sat on his stomach, the man's back to Wilkin's. His saber held hovering dangerously close to Colonel Tavington's chest. The Colonel looked slightly winded but mostly smug. Wilkins pulled out his pistol, the snap of the hammer being pulled back alerted the two on the ground.

"Colonel!" The person sitting on Tavington, looked over their shoulder. "L-Lady Heaton?" Wilkins stammered. She nodded slowly.

"Yes?"

"Wh-What are you doing?" He stuttered in shock, the young captain knew that the Lady and his icy commander did not get along but he didn't think that she would go to lengths to kill him. The Captain paused, just how did she manage to subdue him and dis-arm him? The Colonel was well-versed in sword-play. The Lady stood up, brushing herself off before looking to him. Tavington slowly pushed himself to his feet, his expression was no longer jovial but now the same unreadable void.

"We were sparring…" She said, as If they were chatting idly on the weather.

"But…why?"

"Because we can?" The woman offered, sheathing the sword at her side. It was just then that Wilkins realized she was in men's clothing as well, though it was very modest, the ruff was tied right up to the neck, her hair bound back in a queue. Tavington was standing very close to her, too close to be polite aquaintences, Wilkin's noted.

"Is-Is she your…pardon me for saying this Colonel but Mistress?" Tavington's brows rose while Lady Heaton's eyes narrowed.

"He has a mistress…?" She asked, her breath low, it was almost a growl. Tavington laughed, a short scoff really but it startled both Wilkins and The Lady.

"Good Heaven's no! She's my wife Wilkins!" Wilkins blinked, unsure what to do about this information, he started to laugh uncomfortably. The Colonel having a wife? If that were the case someone would have said something by now to him. The Colonel never mentioned having a wife, in fact in the two months that Wilkin's had joined the Dragoons he had only heard the Colonel say that love was a ridiculous malfunction of the mind serving to distract one from the task at hand.

"Oh! I see, You almost had me there-" He stopped mid-sentence at the glare he was receiving from the Colonel and his wife. "Y-Your married?" They nodded. "But Sir, forgive me but you said that such relations were-"

"I said that they were a distraction and they are. You must learn to separate your professional live from your private and I believe I have successfully. We are at war with rustics, the more they know of my personal ties, the more they can use it against me. And the more human I seem." He said dangerously in a way that made Wilkin's appreciate that he had chosen the correct side. The Colonel scared him, even with a home life. Wilkins looked between the two before looking to Lady Heaton, or Was it Lady Tavington?

"But what if someone like that letch O'Hara attempts to court you Lady...Tavington?" He asked unsure, The lady nodded and he continued. "Surely you'd be found out."

"Oh come now Captain, everyone thinks I am determained to be an old maid. I'm not interested…simple as that. I need no rescuing." Tavington smirked at his wife scolding his second in command. Wilkins open his mouth but closed it quickly as The Lady raised a brow.

"Why haven't you told the loyalists?"

"My father knows, Captain Bordon attended our wedding, and a few personal friends, now is not the right time to tell the public, you merely learned by accident." Lady Heaton-er….Tavington said. She was still a Lady Correct? What did that make the Colonel?

"Captain?" Tavington intoned, he looked mildly annoyed that his Captain seemed so inept that he had to bother with these silly questions about something he really shouldn't have known in the first place. "If you are done with the idiotic interrogation, why are you really here?" the Captain was suddenly flustered, trying to remember exactly why he was there.

"There were more dispatches that came in from Lord Cornwallis." The Colonel looked rather displeased, Wilkin's minutely shrunk back.

"Walk with me." He growled, the pair of Dragoon officers left the courtyard, once they were out of earshot, the Colonel stopped suddenly, his brilliant furied eyes making the much taller Captain feel a slight terror. "Captain, I realize that it has put me in quite a predicament of hypocrisy with you stumbling upon your discovery but note this, once you leave this house you will not speak of it to anyone, ever, not about her, not about this plantation. Not to Captain Bordon, you will especially not address it with me. My wife is very dear to me and if anything were to befall her due to your own incompetence I will slaughter you myself. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?" He said with a viciousness. The Captain nodded quickly.

"Y-You have my word Colonel."

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Colonel William Tavington looked back over his shoulder to his wife as he rode away from her, away from their home. He turned down the rode towards the Dragoon camp. The moment he passed the gate he was no longer William Tavington, the devoted husband. He was Colonel William "The Butcher" Tavington. Once he had reached the officers tent, he dismounted from his horse, handing the reigns to a groom, pulling off his gloves and walking inside.

Borden and Wilkins were mulling over a map when Tavington entered the room. Wilkins looked up, when his eyes fell on his commander, he fidgeted, as if nervous. Tavington sent a silent order to him to cut it out, it was irritating. Wilkins stiffened, standing to attention. Borden looked up, following suit.

"Sir. Good to see you back. Lady Heaton was as dashing as always?" Borden asked. Wilkins flinched, it did not go unnoticed by Bordon, did Wilkin's know? He looked to his commander, who, would be angry for sure. He was correct in that assumption.

"If you mean a hospitable host, then yes. But if you are implying otherwise may I remind you to steel your tongue."

"I apologize for my idiocy sir." Wilkins was thoroughly amused by this until Tavington shot him a glare. Tavington didn't reply to Borden, he instead moved to the table and leaned over the map. "Sir the ghost-"

"I don't believe in Ghosts Captain, find this man so I can kill him!"

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And that was the First chapter, I hope you enjoyed it not sucking so much , I've toned down Ellie's modern lingo and tried to peel back her personality a bit more but I doubt she'll be so forgiving of me. I've also made Tavington less of a Sap and more of the steel-heart that we know and lust-er I mean love.

Anyway new Reviews would be loved!


	2. Rebel for a Cause

_"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."_

_-Emily Brontë_

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**Chapter 2**

The night after her husband left, Lady Eleanor Tavington had walked into a patriot bar. She had come to be a regular there, feeling speaking freely and listening to the other patrons, with one exception, she was not the lady, she was from all looks, male, She was pretending to be Michael. Most assumed she was just a boy in his teen years perhaps 17 or 18 who had not yet got a beard, though her drinking ability suggested otherwise. She was staring down her second glass of Ale when the door of the pub was thrown open.

Silence swept the establishment as two men stood there, looking around. One seemed familiar. His companion, was not.

"God Bless King George!" He stammered, looking around nervously. He turned to his sandy haired companion as the patrons glared and producing all manner of knives and pistols. Eleanor raised a brow from her glass and smiled bemused. "Go! Out!" The first ushered the second. The two threw themselves from the door and slammed it behind themselves.

After the two identified themselves as Benjamin Martin and Jean Villeneuve, the pub welcomed them warmly. The Ghost's call for militiamen was eagerly answered as the men lined up quickly. Eleanor watched and sighed, she hoped that none of these men who she had come to know so well would ever cross her husband's path, but it was unlikely they wouldn't. Then she was struck with the vague desire to enlist herself. Maybe she would see him then. It would be better then sitting around the house, militiamen could come and go as they pleased so should she need to return home she could easily. She stopped, and slapped herself, shaking her head. She couldn't possibly do that! It was one thing parading as a man for a few hours at a time, but another to do it for months at a time, she would be living with these men! And what if William came home to find her gone? What if she was killed?

Before she knew it, she was on her feet, striding over to Martin and taking the quill.

"Make your mark." He said simply. She dipped the quill in ink and tapped the excess off on the edge of the bottle. It was a habit that caused Martin's brows to rise; usually someone with very refined manners did such, someone who was a woman. Martin shook his head, perhaps it was just an error on the boy's part, he couldn't have known. Eleanor signed in the book. Michael Heaton. It was the best calligraphy Martin had seen in a while.

"Heaton?" Ellie nodded.

"Yes Sir."

"Welcome to the militia, report to the Black Swamp, the area with the old Spanish mission tomorrow evening, be prepared." Ellie nodded.

"Thank you, Sir. Tomorrow then." Ellie turned and walked away. Martin studied 'Michael' closely, he walked like a man and spoke like one, even if it was a bit high. Eleanor walked out the door of the pub and mounted her horse, taking a breath, what was she thinking? Was she mad!? Well, yes, after all, she was impersonating someone who did not exist. She had studied her father's and husband's movements, the way they walked, sat, rode, their mannerisms. She knew how to act like a man but there were still certain habits she hoped she could suppress so as not to get her found out.

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It was the a week after they had all met, they had spent the morning training. Drills and the like. "Michael" had been mostly quiet, and kept to himself the entire week. It unnerved some of the men, the way he didn't seem to fit in, Benjamin Martin chalked it up to the boy being shy and frightened of the prospect of fighting to come, but there was something in the boy's strangely bright eyes that spoke of determination, and strength.

"Boy!" A middle-aged man, Billings, was his name, or so Eleanor thought. "You haven't shot a thing yet….do you even know how to hold that musket?" He said staring her down. She looked up to him and nodded.

"Yes sir." She said in a voice, slightly higher than its intention.

"Well then show us." He egged her on. Really, she knew they thought she was quite slow. Not slow, never slow, just, tentative around this group. She stood, looking to Martin for a moment before stepping forward to the line in the trampled down grass, eyes locking on the dummy before her as she loaded the musket from memory, not looking at the weapon, she didn't need too. After pressing the powder down and putting the ramrod back in her haversack she squared up and took aim, looking down the barrel, taking in a breath, letting it out and firing. The shot sounded out and shook her chest, no matter how many times she had fired that musket it still did. She didn't even look at the target to see her handiwork. It disturbed her every time, instead she turned and walked to her horse, strapping the weapon back to her saddle. The men were silent as the looked at the dummy, its head had been blown clear off.

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It had been several months now since Eleanor had joined the militia under her brother's name, Michael Heaton. There had been a few close calls with her. Some of the men questioned why 'Michael' insisted on taking the first watch of night duty, or the way he held a fork. There were also certain formalities he had. Any of these mannerisms were dismissed as Michael Heaton began to prove himself useful, earning the nickname of "The Hawk", for his keen eyes and good shots. The nickname spread among the countryside and the British had another pain in their necks besides "The Ghost".

It was a warm afternoon in the fall when the band of men celebrated their first victory. They had just intercepted Lord Cornwallis' caravan of personal effects and clothing. For the most part the things had been considered useless. Some of the furniture was burned and the clothing was torn apart to fix many a coat or pair of breeches. Benjamin sat by the fire, Gabriel next to him, Eleanor, across, petting the two dogs that had, for some reason taken a liking to her and no one else. Benjamin was pouring over the correspondence and journals of Lord Cornwallis. Suddenly he snapped the book closed, startling Eleanor and Gabriel.

"I have just been in the mind of a genius!" He declared. Gabriel raised a brow. "Lord Cornwallis knows more about war then we could ever learn in a lifetime." Eleanor nodded, though she had tried to ignore the conversation, for some reason it unnerved her that they were sorting through the Lord General's things, reading private letters. What if they were her fathers letters? Her father's things? She would be disturbed at Mr. Martin reading her letters to him.

"He's arrogant , but not bad." Eleanor replied more readily than she would have liked, rolling her eyes, that always irritated her about Cornwallis.

"I've noticed. He talks of militia as though they are rubbish, Pride is his weakness. He has pride in his tactics and he knows it…" Martin said. Billings and the Reverend Oliver tilted their heads in confusion. "What? Pride's a weakness."

"Then why don't you use it to your advantage sir?" Eleanor offered idly .

"I just might." Benjamin looked down, bewildered at the dogs she was petting.

"How do you get those hounds to stay idle for you?"

"What sir?"

"Why haven't the dogs ripped your hand off yet?" Ellie looked down to the dogs in thought, one large head was settled on her lap.

"They are not beasts, all they need is a little compassion, and perhaps some meat." She said with a small grin. Benjamin studied the young man before him. Heaton. That name sounded familiar, and, those eyes. Of course!

"General George Heaton!" Ellie coughed and looked to Benjamin at his mention of her father's name.

"Beg Pardon sir?" Did he know who she really was? What if he did? She suddenly felt terror paralyze her.

"Is that not your father's name?"

"H-how'd you know that sir?"

"Heaton…your last name, and you have his eyes. Though yours are much brighter I must say." Ellie raised her brows and blushed slightly, feeling very flustered.

"T-Thank you sir."

"Though, I never knew he had a son. I've only heard of his daughter Eleanor." Ellie nodded.

" My older sister, Sir."

"How is the old man doing these days?"

"Good Sir."

"Still a Loyalist I presume?" That question took Ellie by surprise, if Martin knew her father was a loyalist then why did he speak of him so nicely? "Last I heard he was up in Virginia, leading the redcoats there."

"Y-yes sir." Martin laughed and smiled.

"Does he know his only son is one of those traitors he despises so much?" Just when Eleanor was starting to calm, she was back to terrified again. She looked down to her lap.

"N-no… He doesn't but I'm sure if he ever did…he'd disown me…" Martin's smiled faltered.

"Well, we'll keep your name to ourselves then….but thank you Heaton, I know this must be hard for you to defy your father." They fell quiet for a moment before Eleanor spoke again.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"My father is on the opposing side, but then why do you not speak ill of him?" Martin's expression turned serious.

"Your father and I fought in the French and Indian war, he was a good man, fair and just. But, I'm not fighting mainly for sides because I believe one thing or another. I believe in freedom and liberty, don't get me wrong, Heaton. But my motives are not as noble as others." He looked sadly to Ellie, she saw the grief in his azure eyes.

"You've lost someone to this war…" She said. He shook his head.

"It was not the war that got him, more like a butcher." Ellie froze. William. She had to be sure. Martin's wore a look of deep-loathing.

"A butcher? Sir?" Ellie asked, timidly, her voice in her throat.

"The Butcher. That bastard Dragoon commander, shot my second son dead when he tried to save Gabriel." The color drained from Ellie's face as she watched her commander speak so bitterly of her husband. It had never quite occurred to her that this was the ghost that her William had created. They would fight on political matters but the events that occurred on the field were never mentioned. It was unspoken agreement between them. He kept them separate. His personal life from his career, and now Eleanor knew why, he was every bit the brutal Commander that the Loyalist public gossiped about..

Ellie looked down to her hands in her lap. She was quiet for a while. What would happen if she had to choose between the man she loved and the man she took orders from? She sighed and looked up to Benjamin.

"What would you do if you got the chance to do the same? To get back at him, would you? No matter what?" It had taken Benjamin by surprise. His brows raised. He took a breath, thinking it over. "If he had a family? A daughter or son?....A Wife?"

"I'd like to say I wouldn't do the same thing, but given the chance, being there. I don't know what I would do." Ellie paused, that made her feel slightly better, somehow. "But….if he had a family….they did not kill my son, he did and he must pay"

"I think we'd all like to take the high road so to speak sir." She said, in passing thought.

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Ok this chapter isn't too terribly much different. I hope you're picking up on some of the hints I'm dropping. Just fun silly stuff.


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